The black numbness was always accompanied by with those falsely soothing words, but Aziphem never knew what would be different when he woke up. Would he have all of his organs? His limbs? His tail? Would he be able to breath? Maybe his horns would be shaved down and bleeding.
At this point, he preferred to deal with the pain of being awake for almost every surgery. At least then he knew what they were doing to him. Of course, the squirming made onlookers... uncomfortable. As if they hadn't considered he would act so human. To placate them, the demon had been regularly sedated in order to make procedures go more smoothly.
As Kotarou laid the mask gently on his face, Aziphem twisted, trying to pull away. He didn't want to sleep away another moment of his life, even if that meant feeling his own vivisection.
"Shhh, it will be so much easier this way." Those gloved hands stroked him gently, holding the airflow tight around his nose and mouth. "I don't want you to suffer more than needed."
How could he let the angel know he was suffering, that all of this was suffering. It didn't matter if he was conscious to feel it or not.
@mediwhumpmay
Art tag list: @whump-tr0pes @whump-queen @whumpsday @whumpinthepot @kixngiggles @onlywhumpcomments @project-xiii @quietly-by-myself @ka1imba @suspicious-whumping-egg @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpcomica @i-eat-worlds @regrets-realization-acceptance
Just a little.. bit... further...' Hero told themselves, clutching their side and drawing in another painful, wheezing breath.
The world was spinning in front of them and their vision was starting to become obscured with small dots.
They could barely see the doors of their base, and had to slam their palms against the doors to keep themselves upright.
"Hey!" They gasped. "Help!"
They blinked, and found themselves on the floor as the sounds of footsteps came rushing towards them.
"Hero, you're injured!"
"Hero, is that you?!"
"Quick, get me a gurney. They're hurt!"
The noise was overwhelming, but a familiar face swam in front of theirs.
"M-medic?"
"Yeah, it's me. We're going to take care of you, okay? Can you tell me what's wrong, where are you hurt?" Medic asked, instantly checking over Hero's body.
"My chest.. can't.. breathe.." Hero panted.
A gurney was pushed up against the wall, and Medic and the rest of the team began to lift Hero onto it. Hero cried out at the movement, tears springing to their eyes.
"It's okay, Hero. You've got a punctured lung, but I can fix it, alright?" Medic said above them as they wheeled the gurney inside the base, heading straight towards the med bay.
The team members helped get Hero to the bay and into the surgical suite, where Medic's assistants took over. They placed Hero on the operating table and began cutting the clothing away from the wound.
Hero whimpered as the open wound was revealed, their chest looking depressed on that side. "That's bad, right?" They whispered.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Hero. It's bad. Lie back for me, okay?" Medic said.
The team of assitants bustled around the operating table. One inserted an IV into Hero's arm, and other handed Medic a mask.
"I need you to breathe this in for me. I'm going to put you to sleep so I can operate. When you wake up, you'll feel a lot better." Medic said.
Hero shook their head and tried to move away, despite the pain burning through their chest. "Don't! Please, don't, I c-"
Medic clapped the mask over Hero's face and held it there, even as Hero thrashed in their grasp.
"Shh.. It's going to be alright, Hero. Just go to sleep." Medic whispered, in a desperate attempt to soothe their patient.
Hero's movements became sluggish, their attempts to free themselves abandoned as their limbs hung limply at their side, and their eyes drifted closed.
When Hero came back to consciousness, they were lying on their back, propped up on pillows in a bed in Med Bay.
They panicked momentarily, seeing the tube coming out of the wound in their side.
"Hey, hey." Medic said. "Leave the chest tube alone, I worked hard to get that in you." They scolded.
Hero sighed. They felt no pain as they used their lungs, which was likely due to the medication running through the IV port in their hand. "Medic.. what- what happened?"
"What happened is you got yourself impaled on something, and then showed up to Base half dead in the doorway." Medic retorted, arms crossed over their chest. "
"I'm sorry." Hero replied softly.
You get your ass back to sleep now. You took a fair beating, and I know the chest tube isn't pleasant to see." Medic's voice was more gentle now. "We'll talk more about this when you feel better."
With that, Hero fell back into a semi-drug induced, uneasy sleep.
I'm going to be attempting to write something daily in May (wish me luck!). Could be a drabble, could be a hundred words on a WIP, I'm just trying to build a regular writing habit again. Today it comes in the flavour of a MediWhump May prompt.
Pe-series, Mac and Jack, Sandbox double drabble for the prompt 'IV/Cannula'.
“Hey, c’mon now, leave that alone.” Jack said, peeling away the wandering fingers that had once again started to pick at the adhesive securing the IV. Annoyed eyes, softened by exhaustion, glared at him briefly before slipping shut again.
He could go. He should go. There was no reason for him to be here. No reason at all. Except, the staff here were busy, too busy to keep an eye on a kid who was barely awake and very much did not want the cannula in the back of their hand. So here he was. Protector of the intravenous hydration. Had nothing to do with how he’d been scared to death when Macgyver had collapsed on him earlier. The worry that hadn’t quite left him, even after the prognosis of a full recovery with some rest and fluids.
Kid was his responsibility. That’s all it was. He wasn’t getting attached to his bomb nerd who apparently came with a distinct lack of self preservation. He was just making sure dehydration didn’t take him out before he shipped out, back to Texas in nine days and counting.
There was no reason for him to be here.
None at all.
And yet.
Challenge: @mediwhumpmay 2023
Fandom: Deus Ex
Prompt: Day 4: Pain
Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, medical whump, amputation, cybernetics, ableism
Adam tells people he doesn’t remember waking up. In many ways, that’s true.
He doesn’t remember the very first waking… or perhaps he does, but it is buried among the dozens of others, where he woke confused and afraid, unable to remember where he was or what had happened. Blissfully, the memories run together, creating a single ur-memory, from which he can trace the specific triggers of his trauma.
Those memories, dreamlike in their haziness, start shortly after the first cybernetics were installed - the ones that genuinely saved his life. The lungs, breathing according to their own programming, not yet entirely under his control; a heart augmented and protected; a gut that was as synthetic as it was not. It was all connected to a spine and implants in his brain to keep autonomic functions working. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he could barely move, and what little moving he did - manipulated by unseen people, rolled and lifted and poked and prodded - was accompanied by tremendous pain. For some value of the word, though, he seemed to be alive.
If this was living, he wasn’t convinced he wanted to keep doing it.
Someone eventually took pity on him and gave him some of his senses back: a cochlear implant that finally allowed him to hear the movements of nursing staff, who sometimes told him they would touch him before they did, but just as often didn’t bother. One gave a running commentary of everything he was about to do, asking diffidently if his touches and movements were all right, as if Adam could do a damn thing about them. But knowing was better than not, and someone telling him they wanted to check the various tubes and bags that carried nutrients into his body and escorted them out again made his tiny, painful world that much more bearable.
Cybernetic eyes took longer to adjust to, with electrical signals his brain still struggled to interpret. A woman came every day to work with him. His augmentations, she told him, were very advanced, bleeding edge, really, and she was delighted to be working with them- him, she quickly corrected herself. With him.
If he’d had a hand, he would have tested his spatial cognition and motor control with a hurled cup. As it was, he obediently named every item illustrated in the children’s books she brought and every item in the room he could remotely identify. He would learn to use these eyes in record time if it meant he stopped having to see her with them.
Eventually, whatever visual acuity he was supposed to have achieved was reached and she stopped coming. Small relief, but relief nonetheless.
The worst part of functioning eyes was that he could now see what remained of his body. He knew from the nurse who talked him through his care that there were tubes and bags, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sheer depth and breadth of them, how many types there could be. Drains carried blood and lymph from amputations; a bag for his feces, a tube for his urine, another for food. His chest carried more drains, ports for the augment that would eventually help him carry arms too heavy for a frail human body alone. What little skin he had that wasn’t bandaged or an open wound was wired to a computer, either through his skin, a port, a data jack, or good old fashioned electrodes. His tiny, painful world expanded to include a constant stream of data, communicated through electrical impulses he had yet to understand and incessant beeping he could understand well enough.
A sergeant in Detroit had once told him that pain was how you knew you were alive.
Adam thought he might go find that man and strangle him if he ever got the hands to do so.
-=-=-=-
Limbs would come later, they told him. He asked and everyone told him the same thing: when you’re better. When you’re ready. Don’t worry, Sarif is taking care of it. Sarif is taking care of you. Aren’t you lucky that David Sarif is taking such incredible care of you? He wouldn’t do this for just anyone.
The surgeries were extensive and felt neverending. Just as soon as he had half healed from one, he was being wheeled to another, and another, and another. In the early days, after he was conscious, but deaf and blind and sedated so heavily that he could barely speak; no one was making an effort to communicate with him about what was happening to him. After, a care team so extensive it made his head spin made a point of carefully explaining the procedures in agonizing detail until he prayed they’d stop telling him.
It all would have been easier if he had just been machinery. Instead, they took meticulous care to ensure that his nerves worked, his augmented spine carried signals to his augmented brain, which told him that his body was on fire; that his arms and legs, left behind in the bombing, were somehow simultaneously numb and tingling.
New incisions were nothing compared to the experience of having his skin lifted and separated from muscle, fascia fileted, and dermal armor inserted under. New nerves had to be grown, tested, modified, tested again. When he screamed, a technician calmly nodded and jotted down notes.
No torture had yet been invented that was more exquisitely terrible than this hell of existing in a body that could barely be called that. He stopped trying to look forward to a future where he could walk out. He would never be free of this. If he could even find a way to end his own suffering, they would cheerfully resuscitate him and proceed without a break in their stride.
The scientists and doctors and nurses and technicians all seemed uniform in their assessment: he was fortunate to be alive. He was fortunate that David Sarif cared so much. He was fortunate to be used as a guinea pig in experiments for which he was the only possible candidate, because where else would they find someone who had so miraculously and opportunely been dismembered? Under their own roof! How convenient.
Holidays were a rare treat for the Cunningham-Cole crew. Both Taidgh and Harrisons jobs were difficult for raising a family, but they refused to let it get in the way. Each day out was precious, even a few hours at the park, a walk to feed the ducks, the tiny things that meant the world to both dads.
With the kids old enough to actually be a contender in races, Harrison often brought his running blade to join in - he wasn’t going to let Tai have the fun. So that's where they found themselves on a warm Sunday morning, charging around the park like idiots. They'd planned to stay the day, picnic packed and ready. Levi was old enough to join in, though he didn't always undenal the rules of whichever game they were playing, occasionally ending up in tears.
Frisbee was easy enough, so they eventually moved onto that. The park was quiet enough, though the hum of other families laughter carried across the air. Even Harrison's laughs carried across, Alfie having his life and loving it. Scout was just as bad as them, haring around the park and herding his family.
Tai loved their weekend days out, when the whole family could mess around together. It was a warm day, the sun shining over the grass. The kids were rowdy, on their last few weeks of school holidays, and it had been good to get out of the house. He’d been haring about with them that morning, trying to catch up with the kids, but his knee had twinged and he’d ended up sat on the picnic blanket watching them play Frisbee, Scout rushing madly between them as he tried to catch it mid-air. He let them play for a while, before his stomach growled at him and he couldn’t ignore the food he was sat next to any longer.
“Hars! Kids! Come on, lunch! I’m starving to death over here!” He called.
They raced over, Scout leading the way with his bounding strides. The boys were close behind, but Harrison lagged slightly, his own leg starting to ache.
Harrison settled by Tai, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pressed a kiss to his cheek, the pair like lovesick teenagers. Of course, the kids made their displeasure known, a quiet chorus of gross as they laughed.
Tai leaned into Hars, grinning at the kids. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”
"Ew, no! It's gross!" Kieran laughed, his nose scrunched.
“You’ll get a kiss too, if you’re not careful!” Tai teased, reaching out for him.
"No! Alfie, help!" Kieran wriggled away, shouting and laughing.
“I’ll get you both!” Tai said, as Alfie piled in, and Scout tried to join in too, barking and hopping excitedly.
Harrison sat back with a smile, looking proudly on at the chaos he'd created. He grabbed a sandwich while the others were distracted, sneaking Levi a piece of cheese his youngest had been eyeing up.
Eventually the chaos died down, the twins and Tai flopping back on the blanket breathless and grinning. He reached for the food, grabbing a sandwich.
As the kids dug in, Harrison nudged Tai's thigh. "Hey."
“Hey, you okay?”
"More worried about you. I saw you twist it."
“Just a little twinge, I just didn’t want to do any more damage to it."
Harrison rubbed his thigh. "Are you in pain?"
“Not now I’m sat down.”
"Are you sure?"
“Yeah, it’s not bad. I just didn’t want to be haring around on it and making it all swollen. If they don’t do this op tomorrow I’m going to have a breakdown.”
Harrison hummed, fingers trailing over skin. "Yeah, I know."
“Are you sure work are okay with your time off?”
"As if I'd give them a choice."
“And Steve’s okay with having the kids?”
"He's looking forward to it."
“Mm, okay.” He said, and kissed his cheek again.
Harrison reached a hand to cup his cheek, tilting his face up to kiss him properly. His thumb stroked his cheek as he pulled back. "It's going to be okay. I love you."
Tai smiled. “Love you too.”
He quickly pressed a kiss to Tai's nose before moving to lean against him and reaching for his can of pop. "You know I'll be there for you, whatever you need."
“Pass me another sandwich?” He asked cheekily.
"What's the magic word?" He teased, dangling it out of reach.
“Mm, please?”
Harrison grinned. "Nope."
“Hey!”
"You gotta say the magic word!"
“Please is the magic word!”
"Nope!"
“Come on!” He whined, kissing him on the cheek again.
Harrison's resolve cracked. "It's a good job I love you."
“And I love you too.”
Their day was heaven, a picnic in the warmth followed by more stupid games after they’d eaten. Eventually, though, they headed home, all of them just completely shattered. It was a job to corral sleepy kids to bed, Tai and Hars exhausted themselves. Scout had spent the evening sprawled out asleep on the rug in the living room, looking like they felt.
Even Tai and Hars had headed to bed early that night, aware they were up early the next morning. They fell asleep with Tai’s head resting on Harrison’s shoulder, warm and comfortable. When their alarm went off the next morning, Tai just snuggled up against him, refusing to move.
He was eventually coaxed out of bed and got dressed, enjoying the last glass of water he was allowed. Steve arrived to look after the boys, and after some hugs and fuss, the pair of them headed to the hospital. It was weird, driving their familiar commute for something other than work.
Harrison knew Tai was stressed. He could feel it a mile away. Of course, he was worried too, not just for the operation, but his recovery and everything that came with it. The operation itself was rubbing a little too close to home for Harrison, having had so many himself. It was the right leg, too, which only stirred up more emotions for him. He shook his head to clear his mind, taking Tai's hand as they headed in.
Tai squeezed his hand gratefully, heading through the doors into the day surgery unit. It was unfamiliar, which was both good and bad, but he signed in at the desk and then it was a waiting game, his left leg bouncing anxiously.
"You've got your bag, you've got stuff for after, some juice and some throat sweets." Harrison murmured, mainly to himself. "And you've got your sweets for emergencies, and I put an extra juice box in for you, too. I've got the insulin and I'll give it to the nurses when we get there."
Tai glanced over at him. “What would I do without you?”
"Probably be a lot less stressed." He admitted with a laugh.
“A lot more stressed, more like.”
"Mm, maybe."
“Got you to look after me.”
"I'll always look after you."
“Yeah.” Tai said, moving to rest his head on his shoulder.
"Sickness and in health. All that bullshit." He pressed a kiss to his hair. "And anyway, we've got the kids. I can't manage them alone."
“You could.”
"I wouldn't."
“I hope they’re okay with Steve.”
"I think it's the other way round." Harrison managed to joke. "I think dad's gonna regret offering."
“Probably, they’re nightmares.”
"I can't even stand up for them. I know I should." He said sagely, trying to keep a straight face.
“They’re feral, but hopefully yesterday tired them out enough.”
"I hope so. Scout was bloody knackered, bless him."
“Looked how I felt.” Tai agreed. It wasn’t long before they called him through, and he gripped Harrison’s hand as he stood. All he wanted was to go home, but that wasn’t possible. They asked him to change, and they’d be back for obs and things. He hesitated, looking at his fiancé. “Can I just sack this off and we just go home?”
"Don't be daft." He shook his head, though wanted nothing more than to do the same. "You need this sorted. Just think, this time tomorrow, all the operations and stuff will be done. And you'll only have the physio to do."
He pulled a face. “Even worse.”
"What, you're not looking forward to physio?" He feigned shock.
“Nobody looks forward to physio, knob.” He shot back.
"And after all the shit you gave me?"
“I’m allowed to give you shit, we’re getting married. Besides, I’m already doing physio.”
"Yeah, well, I'm doing a physio."
He snorted. “That’s a terrible joke. Can we go home? I don’t want to do this.”
"No, we can't." Harrison sighed. "And I'm not being a dick, but you need to take a few deep breaths, try and relax as much as you can. I can feel your anxiety from over here, and it's not gonna help you."
He forced himself to take a breath, his lips pressed tightly together. His shoulders slumped as he let it out, reaching for Harrison. “I hate hospitals.”
Harrison stood, moving to wrap his arms around his fiance. "I know, I know. I've got you."
He leaned into him, taking another deep breath and focusing on the smell of him, washing powder and aftershave and something that was just him. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders, his body softening against Harrison’s.
"That's it, well done." He praised, kissing his forehead. "Another slow breath.'
He nodded. “Feel all sick and anxious.” He admitted.
"I know, I know. It's fucking shit." He soothed. "But you'll get all the good drugs soon, get a nice little nap, and you'll wake up with your leg sorted."
“I’m such a baby, jesus.”
Harrison couldn't help his smile. "I know it's the wrong time and all that, but I really love your accent."
“Piss off.” He grumbled good-naturedly. “It gets softer all the time, being stuck here with you.”
"We should go across, once you're better. I'm sure your mum would appreciate it."
“She would, it’s been too long since she’s seen the boys.”
"Tell you what, Christmas? Steve said he'd come too, we'll go over for the two weeks. Stay in a cottage, have Christmas there." He said, feeling Tai relax into him.
“As if you’ll get two weeks of leave at Christmas.”
"Watch me."
“Only if you forge a sick note will you get that much time off. And don’t even think about it.” He teased. “I don’t even think I could get that much off, but maybe a few days before new years?”
"We'll manage it."
“What about going to Fao’s? Won’t you miss that?”
"You miss your family for mine."
“I love your family.”
"My point still stands."
“Mm, it would be nice to go back. You won’t understand a word.”
"Be nice for the kids to have the accent though." He smiled, glad Tai was relaxing more. "Be like mini yous."
“We’d need to move for them to have the accent, really. Right now they’re just gonna end up like Fao.” He joked.
"Oh, I don't know which would be worse." He teased, his face falling as the door pushed open.
Tai tensed, his jokes forgotten as the door creaked open.
"Hi, Tai? Ah, excellent, you're all changed. I'm just gonna grab a few obs off you, and then we'll pop you through."
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Okay.” He untangled himself from Hars, sitting down.
Harrison mirrored his actions, sitting and fidgeting with a stray thread. The nurse was nice enough, but Harrison couldn't focus on their conversation, his eyes trained on the monitor.
Tai did his best to try and relax, focusing on his breathing. He’d looked to Harrison, but he was just staring at the obs machine, and that didn’t help. He tried to think of something else, of the Christmas trip they’d been planning, but the stupid thing had sound and he could hear how fast his pulse was, the way the blood pressure cuff squeezed so tight his fingers tingled and he prayed it wouldn’t be ridiculously high.
The nurse made a soft noise. “Oh, those are a bit on the high side, aren’t they?”
“I’m, uh, a really nervous patient. White Coat Syndrome and all that.” Was Harrison going to be pissed he was anxious again?
Harrison frowned at the obs, and stood up. He moved back to Tai's side, kissed his cheek and hopped on the bed next to him. He laced their fingers together, bringing their knuckles to his lips.
"Deep breath together?" He said softly. "Make you feel better."
He nodded, forcing himself to take another deep breath with Harrison.
He kissed their knuckles. "And again? All the way down, from your head to your toes."
“Gonna make me go dizzy.” He grumbled, but did as he was told after a few moments, focusing on drawing the breath all the way to his feet.
"Don't make yourself dizzy." Harrison murmured with a gentle laugh. "Defeats the point."
“I know.” His pulse had come down, and the nurse hummed.
“I don’t suppose you do your blood pressure at home, do you?”
Tai nodded. “Yeah, they asked me to at pre-op, given my anxiety. Last one was 121/83.”
“Oh, perfect.”
"He's the fittest person I know." Harrison said. "And I know I've gotta say that, but it's true."
“Well, I’ve not been so good recently, but I do my best trying to stay fit.”
Harrison stroked his thumb over the back of his hand. "You know, he even does the physio he's supposed to."
“Only because if I didn’t, I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite. Practice what you preach and all that.”
The nurse laughed, leafing through the paperwork. "Ah, yeah, here we are. You've got your blood pressures for the week. Bless, you really are nervous, aren’t you?"
He nodded. “Really nervous. I’m awful, I hate needles and I’m not overly fond of hospitals as a patient.”
"I don't blame you, not one bit. They're not nice to be in." He smiled. "Unfortunately though, we will have to put a little needle in when we go through."
“Yeah, I know.” He said. “I’d rather that than no anaesthetic, but I’m not a fan.”
Harrison huffed a laugh. "Hey, maybe they can get you a sticker for being such a brave boy? Finn did it to me for my last one."
“Oh, piss off.”
"I'm not even joking. He found a little cat one, and I woke up with paed tape on my cannula and a "good boy" cat sticker stuck to me." He laughed. "Ely was in on it, I swear. So was Fao."
“I don’t remember that.” He said softly.
"Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. I've ruined my surprise."
“Arse.”
He kissed his cheek. "I know."
The nurse smiled at the pair. "Your heart rate has come right down to normal now."
“He usually makes it go up.”
Harrison blushed immediately, his ears tipped red. "Tai."
“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant you’re always stressing me out!”
The nurse laughed again. "Right, before Harrison here melts, why don't we get you through? The sooner you go down, the sooner you can be in recovery."
Tai couldn’t help the anxiety that shot through him. “Already? Thought I’d have to wait longer.”
"You're top of the list. We'll pop you through to the room and the anaesthetists are waiting for you to have a quick chat and then they'll take you down."
He nodded. “And Hars can stay?”
"For now, yeah."
"I've already spoken to them." Harrison said quickly. "They know."
“Okay then.”
Harrison squeezed Tai's hand. "We've got this. You’ve got this."
@mediwhumpmay
Hard capping myself at 1k words for each of these in the hope I finish an event at one point. Liliana belongs to @actress4him! In this AU, the Doc works as a freelance clinician serving the criminal underworld (including vigilantes and other unregistered metahumans and nonhumans).
The rustling of bedsheets caught the Doctor’s attention, dragging them from their work and to their patient’s bedside. The young lady looked much better than before, at least, and it would probably be safe to release her in a couple of hours once the saline drip had run its course and they’d completed a final evaluation. She did still seem rather disoriented, however, which they supposed was to be expected, but running the bag out did still seem like a good idea.
“Ah, with us again, I see. Liliana, was it? How are you feeling?”
The girl was quite confused, blinking against the lab lights and pulling at the tubing. “W-where am I? I have to get…”
They gently pressed her hands back to the bedsheets. “Leave those alone, yes? You are in my clinic, you are safe here. I am treating you for severe dehydration. I was informed you had fainted, and I find that to be consistent with your vitals and other symptoms.”
This didn’t calm her at all. “I-I have to… I have to get back… They’ll look for me…” She pulled against their hands, but with little effort, evidently still tired.
Ah, so that’s all it was. “Worry not, my dear. Your team is aware of your location. They brought you to me, I will make you well again, and you will return. It should only be a couple of hours until they fetch you.” The fiery young woman who had come to the door had seemed rather annoyed to have to be there at all, but that wasn’t any of the Doctor’s business.
Recognition ignited in Liliana’s eyes. “You… you’re the doctor with no name.” They nodded. ‘The nameless doctor’ was an appellation they would not reject, though they would have chosen something different. “You’re expensive,” she added, sullen and with the faintest hint of reproach.
They chuckled. “Perhaps, but I am also discreet, no? You receive treatment, and no one else is the wiser. Regardless, all you required was two bags of intravenous saline and a few hours of my time I could spend on my research. It would be ridiculous for me to have you pay through the nose for that. No, no. It will be next to nothing, I assure you.” Her eyes still held traces of confusion, though whether because their use of English idioms was not quite correct or for another reason, they weren’t sure.
“They’re coming back for me.” Liliana did not seem enthused by this prospect, but rather, resigned to some sort of fate. Which again, wasn’t any of their business, but a person could be allowed a degree of curiosity.
The heart monitor beeped softly (pulse seventy-nine, blood pressure ninety-five over sixty) in the pause that stretched between them before the Doctor spoke. “You… do not wish to return to them?”
She looked up in alarm. “N-no, I w-want to go back!” they got the idea that she didn’t, actually, but that there would be consequences for voicing that desire.
“Our conversations are just between us. I will discuss nothing you say here with any other person.” They wouldn’t have lasted very long here if they were in the business of selling people out.
Liliana shook her head, though, unwilling to risk it. Smart girl. Even the small pots have ears, after all. Instead, the pair sat in silence, listening to the chirping of the equipment and the wind keening through the streets outside the clinic. The lab lamp flickered occasionally, and the Doctor reminded themselves to go out and buy new bulbs. It was usually quiet in the clinic. The Doctor found the stillness quite pleasant, even though it was often interrupted by shouting, slamming doors, and quite a lot of bleeding.
The girl pulled gently on the tape holding the intravenous tube. “How much longer...?”
The Doctor put their glasses back onto their face and squinted at the measurement lines on the bag. “Only another hour or so.”
Liliana didn’t respond, and the two sat in silence as it gradually began to rain.
Taglist: @i-eat-worlds mentioned they liked the doc so i'm tagging you, let me know if you'd prefer i not do that!
